The Fountain
by Kaleidostick
Summary: Jaina's wish.


It was often said amongst children if you wished really hard for something to come true that it would. Kids often skipped by with a copper coin, sometimes even a silver piece, and stand at the edge of Dalaran Fountain eagerly. Their eyes closed and the coin held tightly in their palm, you could always hear them chanting their pleas in a quiet whisper. This fountain in particular received hundreds of these wishes, the pebbled bottom glistening with the shine of copper, silver, and gold.

Of course, children weren't the only ones who believed in the magic of wishes. Apprentice mages who wished to score high on their tests would toss in coins still wet from nervous perspiration. Young couples with their fingers intertwined tossed in a symbol to guarantee their love.

Sometimes, there would be even deeper reasons to wish. Most of the time the wishes asked for was things that would be considered minor and all in the control of person asking. Couples had to work together to make their love strong, students had to study more to increase their test scores, and people had to strive to become rich. Sometimes there would be the rare, silent plea that would require a miracle to come true. A legitimate wish.

Jaina Proudmore was a woman who kept her personality locked up tight, her thoughts and feelings dulled behind thick layers of politics. Men from her past bickered over her and that was unsettling enough to the mage who wanted to do nothing more than study. Guilt tore at her mind on a daily basis over the three men in her life. One had deceased, after a cruel ordeal that ended with a pained resurrection on the isle of Quel'Danas. The second was a brave warrior who ruled his own land, yet was proclaimed an enemy to the same very faction she was involved in. He remained safe, but was worlds away from her. The third was now the greatest evil to ever be known to the world, a foe that both the Horde and Alliance feared.

It would take a miracle for her wish. The Crystal maiden continued to walk the dimly lighted streets of Dalaran. The sun had fallen hours ago, giving Jaina the comfort of the dark night. She was a powerful politician with a background - the last thing she needed was questions as to why she was tossing a gold piece into the fountain. She had her image to maintain, her perseverance to give faith to others, her mind to remain sharp. All things that she would give up, if only she could turn back time.

Because, if truths were to be told, she decided years ago on whom she wanted. Had she remained in Stratholme, she could have changed his mind. What if she broke down her image at that moment and pleaded with him to just leave with her? Could she have stopped him? Would Arthas Menethil be the king he properly was meant to be had she interfered? Jaina knew only one thing - she ultimately failed him as a friend and possibly more.

Yet, there was hope. There was always hope for better things. Hope for the day that the Alliance and Horde could be allies instead of enemies, for instance. There was an even greater hope that lifted the mage's spirits more so. Arthas never truly died. So that someday he could...

"No." Jaina hushed her thoughts out loud, in a whisper barely audible. She mustn't think things like that! To place hope in the effects of Frostmoure reversing was foolish. Arthas, no... the Lich King must be properly deposed of. That was why she came to make this wish, was it not?

The world needed a miracle to dispose of this tyrant once and for all. He was weakened and on the run, now was the perfect time to ask for it. To wish for the war to end. To wish for the destruction of Frostmoure. To wish for peace to come to all the fallen soldiers.

Every other wish before her own was a selfish request, was it not? No one would know of her own request, whether it was selfless or for herself. Convinced now, Jaina's expression grew from a pained look to a small smile, her eyes sparkling of hope for better things because she now knew what the others before her felt. That it was acceptable to be selfish every now and again. With a small smile, her head would look up to the sky as she flipped in the golden coin, her lips part to utter a quiet plea.

"Arthas, my love, please come back to me."


End file.
